Don’t try to change my caustic views,
They come with my bipolar blues,
It’s just a taste of fire and ice,
That’s bitter sweet with every slice.
Don’t try to change my need to run,
It helps me deal with times undone,
By worldly battles fought alone,
So far outside my comfort zone.
Don’t try to change my cheeky ways,
They’ll keep you entertained for days,
And when you think your mind has blown,
I’ll jab you in the funny bone.
Don’t try to change my poet’s heart,
My words connect where feelings start,
I rhyme to purge my aching soul,
So prose can heal that empty hole.
Don’t try to change the way I speak,
Because I am no longer weak,
I speak my heart, I speak my mind,
And there are many truths to find.
Don’t try to change my wayward brain,
I own my shit, are you the same?
My story triumphs, warts and all,
I’ve earned the right to rise and fall.
Don’t try to change my broken wing,
For still I fly and still I sing,
And should I falter on my flight,
Just hold me in the dead of night.
Don’t try to change me for I know,
The me inside just wants to glow,
The seasons that are rough will end,
As long as you can be my friend.
© The Complicated Bunny – 19 Oct 2021
This poem is the second in a series of prose about boundaries, which are essentially conversations with myself. Yet another homework assignment from my clinical psychologist, designed to help me recognise my own personal boundaries so I can form healthy relationships moving forward.
The Complicated Bunny 